


With Every Beat Of My Heart

by fred21



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, Homosexuality, Letters, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-11-08 05:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fred21/pseuds/fred21
Summary: The first letter is just the beginning...





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas breathed in a long slow drag from his cigarette, his body and mind instantly relaxing as he let the smoke in before exhaling it out in a breathy line of wispy mist. Here in the outdoors with the fresh air and the autumn chill that came with it his head began to clear. It was a welcome release after spending much of the day in the musty and dusty confines of Dowtons attics. Lady Mary's and the Dowager Countess's latest project certainly wasn't doing his health or his mood any favours. Why they had decided to undertake such a mammoth task of going through everything that was in storage he had no idea.

He puffed again on his cigarette, casting his eyes about the vast expanse of the estate, his mood sombre.

Home.

It's an odd feeling. This sense of finally belonging.

Disappointment and despair had been part of his life for so long, festering inside him fueling much of his resentment towards others. A failing of his he knew. His friendship with O'Brien hadn't helped his situation one bit. Her own bitterness had only encouraged the darkness within him. Now that she was out of his life he could see that she hadn't been as good a friend as he'd thought for all those years. It was a relief to have her gone, not that there hadn't been some small regret that their friendship had soured so terribly.

Still her absence had highlighted how isolated from others he had become. Something he was quite aware he was at least partially to blame for. His words often gotten him into trouble, though he was learning to think before speaking. Not that it was easy. The whole Carson taking over thing had proven that. Though really he had had every right to be upset. Lady Mary's lack of faith in him had stung. Even worse she had gone behind his back and arranged it all without discussing any of her concerns at how he was handling the Royal Visit with him first. Thankfully His Lordship had been understanding about his out burst and everything was now pretty much back to normal.

He's grateful for what he has; a good position in a good household, the steady support and friendship of the staff, even his health if he ignores the fact that his scarred hand sometimes still aches. A legacy from the war that he has learned to live with and which on the whole he tries not to think about. Some things at least are best left in the past.

And then there was him.

Richard Ellis.

A mystery man with a smile that made his heart beat fast and the promise of something more.

He doesn't want to hope. Hope had almost destroyed him the last time and he doesn't think he could face that again and yet it was there. A glimmer deep inside him. A hint of a promise. A chance for something more than a life without love or affection.

It scares him just a little. Maybe even more than just a little. The cynical voice within him keeps telling him he's a fool. An idiot at best to believe the words of a man he has only just met. A man he knows so little about. It had been nothing more than a harmless diversion, a game to wile away the time before he moved on. Thomas has thought of every excuse, every reason why it couldn't be real and yet...

There had been that smile, the looks, that kiss.

God that kiss. He has spent his nights thinking about it. The way it had left him momentarily breathless and yearning for more. The warmth of Richard's hand against his neck as he held him in his grasp. The scent of him, a mixture of soap and sandalwood.

In that moment it had been just the two of them. It had been real.

His hand reached for the watch fob that Richard had given him, tucked discreetly in his vest pocket. This was real too. A token of remembrance. A gift of a promise.

Was it really so wrong to hope?

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Sorting through the morning post Thomas paused at the letter address to him. The handwriting was neat and elegant and utterly unfamiliar. He can't think who it could be from and flipping it over doesn't help as there's no address on the back. He peered down at the watermark, squinting his eyes just a little as he tried to make it out.

_London_

His breath hitches just in a little in his throat but he dampers down any thought that it could possibly be what he hopes it is. It's just a letter after all. Nothing more. Nothing less. It could be from anyone. For now he'll place it to one side and carry on with his tasks for the day, though he can't help but give it one more fleeting glance as it lays there on the desk. Waiting.

It's only much much later when all the staff have either gone home or gone to bed that he finally picks up the letter again. He taps it against his hand a few times, gathering his courage. It's foolish to be nervous. And yet somehow he is. With a deep breath he makes his decision and pulls out the letter opener from the top draw and calming sliced through the envelope.

It's a single sheet of paper, though as he unfolds it a piece of folded up newsprint falls out. Curious he picked that up first and carefully opens it out. It a news article about the royal visit to Yorkshire, there's even mention of the Abbey and a picture of it too, taken from some distance.

The staff, he thinks, will find it interesting no doubt but for now he puts it to one side and reads the letter that came with it.

_10 October 1927_

_Dear Mr Barrow_

_I know we had not directly talked about corresponding but in all the rush the words were forgotten and I regret that I did not have the chance to mention it to you in person. I hope instead that my actions at the time conveyed how much I wish to continue our acquaintance and that you are agreeable to this. _

_I have enclosed a newspaper clipping that you may find interesting and hope that this letter finds you in good health._

_Till we meet again._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Richard Ellis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the letters may seem formal at first but my thinking is that Thomas and Richard would probably be this way at first. As two gay men they would try to be as discreet as possible for fear of being discovered. Both know of the risks involved and Richard in particular had already advised Thomas to be more circumspect. Anyway I hope you enjoy it. It's my first story in a very long time and my writing is very rusty. Please forgive any mistakes and thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days Thomas carries the words of Richard's letter around in head, memorising each word, each line until he knows it by heart.

It's not much of a love letter as love letters go but he's smart enough to read between lines. He knows what Richard is trying to say and he wants so very much to write back to him but every time he puts pen to paper he starts and stumbles and stops and all that is left are the crumbled up pieces of paper that he burns in the fire each morning. It's so much easier in person. But he knows that this is what they have for now. He has to at least try.

In the end three days go by before he manages to put together something resembling a reply.

_Oct 15th 1927_

_Dear Mr Ellis_

_I cannot tell you the happiness I felt upon receiving your letter and I am indeed agreeable to continuing our acquaintance._

_I trust that London is treating you well. As for myself things at the Abbey have been quiet since Their Majesties visit especially with Lord and Lady Grantham presently visiting Scotland for the shooting season. Lady Mary and the Dowager Countess are however doing their best to prevent us from being idle and I have been spending a great deal of time going back and forth from the attic, fetching a variety of items for them as they undertake their latest project._

_Mrs Hughes, as you may imagine, is not impressed with trail of dust that the footmen and I have been leaving in our wake and I must admit that being cooped up in a freezing cold and musty attic is not an experience that I would wish to do on a regular basis, though the constant walking up and down stairs is at least helping me to keep warm. Still tomorrow is my day off and I am looking forward to being outdoors and away from it all if only for a few hours. A walk into the village and then a train into York for a meal and a visit to the pictures to see For Heaven's Sake feels like just the thing._

_Until we meet again._

_Sincerely Yours_

_Thomas Barrow_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For Heaven's Sake was a 1926 silent film starring Harold Lloyd. Since it was an American made film I thought it probably wouldn't have screened in Britain until a year or so later as the film reels most probably would have had to travel by boat to London.
> 
> 2\. The shooting season generally occurs in Britain in the autumn and winter months and the TV series has previously shown that Lord Grantham enjoys shooting and even shown him taking part in the shooting season in the season 5 Christmas special.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard walked through the back hallways of the palace, his mind occupied with everything he needed to do over the coming weeks. Accompanying their majesties on their annual visit to Balmoral as well as their recent tour of Yorkshire had been enjoyable, unexpectedly so; but it was good to be back in London.

He doesn’t mind the countryside. Quite likes it in fact. The fresh air, the smell of the grass, the sound of birdsong. It has its appeal. And yet he’s a city man at heart. A childhood spent first in Ilkley, then Shrewsbury and finally York have given him a taste for it. The museums, the art galleries, the nightlife; he liked the fast, busy pace of it all though he enjoyed the quiet moments too. The late night walks when the city glowed a golden amber from all the streetlights and the fog filled the air with a hazy mist; a quiet corner in one of the parks on a clear day, sketch pad in hand as he tried to capture something of the scene around him.

London was for now at least home.

His thoughts were interrupted by the approaching form of one of the housemaids from the other end of the hallway. A pretty girl, with a cheery nature and a warm smile, like the one she was giving him right now.

"Oh Mr Ellis, there's a letter waiting for you in the mail room,' she said as she came closer, a freshly ironed pile of bed linen in her arms.

Richard moved to one side, tilting his body a little as he pressed up against the wall to give her room to pass him freely, flashing her a smile as he did so. "Thanks. I'll collect it on my way."

Five minutes later the letter was in his hand and though the postmark said Yorkshire the handwriting was not his mother's and he can't help but smile as he thinks of who it might be from. For the rest of the day he carried the letter with him tucked safely inside the depths of his jacket. It had been opened of course by the palace postal staff but he wants the time to read it at his leisure without any risk of being interrupted. It is only much later when he has completed most of his duties for the night that he finally gets the chance to do so.

He goes for a walk, heading in the direction of the Royal Mews knowing it will be quiet at this late hour, his path dimly lit by the outside lights that surround the Palace. He lights up a cigarette to smoke on the way. He doesn't smoke very often, it's frowned upon by the Master of the Household who insists that none of the palace staff should reek of smoke and on the whole Richard obliges. It's only on rare occasions that the need arises and tonight he's putting it down to Thomas's letter. It's arrival though greatly welcomed has given him a slight case of nerves. It's most unlike him, then again this thing with Thomas is unlike anything he has had in a very long time.

He knows it is a risk they are taking but he has never been afraid of taking a chance, he's just learned how to be more careful when doing so and Thomas, he thinks, is worth the risk. Something about the man has taken hold of his heart and mind, despite the short time they had spent together or perhaps because of it. Either way he knows he cannot just walk away and pretend that nothing happened. Sometimes you can know in an instant if there is something there and Richard had felt it the moment they had met and each encounter with the man as the days unfolded had only intrigued him more and more. Thomas's awkward, nervous apology outside the police station had been the deciding thing. The moment he had truly known that he wanted this man in his life. The certainty of it, of knowing that there was something between them was why he had risked kissing Thomas and why he had given him the watch fob. It's also why he had written to him in the first place. Love or the possibility of it was worth it and he had the feeling that Thomas felt the same way.

He flicked his cigarette away just as he comes to a standstill under a streetlight and reads the letter, smiling at each line Thomas has written. Only when he's finished and the letter safely back in its hiding place in the inside breast pocket of his jacket does he head back towards the servants entrance, his footsteps echoing out on the cobblestones. He hopes that the news he is about to give Thomas will further both their happiness and his smile grows broader at the thought of it.

_October 18th 1927_

_Dear Mr Barrow_

_I am glad that my letter makes you happy. I have yours in the inside breast pocket of my jacket, where it will stay close to me until your next letter arrives._

_Enclosed is my sister's address. _

_Mr Richard Ellis_

_c/ Elm Tree Cottage_

_The Lane_

_Warring Wood_

_Essex_

_She is aware of our situation and will keep our letters safe. This way we can talk freely like we did that night in York. _

_I think of our time together often and look forward to the day we can meet again. For now I hope that these letters will be enough._

_Till we meet again._

_Sincerely Yours_

_Richard Ellis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Though I don't remember seeing Richard smoke in the movie I thought it was something he would do as smoking was fairly common back then. Thomas and O'Brien were I think about the only 2 people that you see smoking in the series which is kind of odd as most men smoked (either cigarettes or cigars).
> 
> 2\. There is as far as I know no such place as Warring Wood, either in Essex or anywhere else. I decided just to make up a place rather than use something real in case I got something wrong - and yes that's a hint that it will make an appearance later on in the story :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for all your lovely comments and support.

Andy carried the morning mail that had just been delivered into the butler's pantry, the bundle of envelopes stiff in his hand.

"The mail, Mr Barrow," he said handing the pile over as Thomas looked up from his desk, "There's a letter for you on the top."

Thomas gave a curt nod in reply as he clutched the letters in his hand, waiting in silence as Andy left the room.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

"Mr Barrow got another letter," said Andy as he walked into the kitchen.

He generally wasn't much of one for gossip but he had to admit that his curiosity was piqued by the arrival of yet another letter for Mr Barrow. In the few years he had been at Downton he had never once seen Mr Barrow receive any letters of a personal nature before. Business letters from wine merchants and the like, but not personal letters. Not one. Which was odd in itself since most of the staff got at least one or two letters a year from family and friends. Parcels too on occasion. Whereas Mr Barrow never received anything. Now to suddenly receive two in as many weeks... well it was certainly intriguing.

Mrs Patmore looked up from her large ceramic bowl, her floured hands wrist deep in the dough she was kneading. "And?" she said, the question coming out abrupt, her voice tinged with impatience at the unimportance of this news.

"It's just interesting, that's all. I mean I've never known Mr Barrow to receive any letters before." Andy looked between Mrs Patmore and Daisy, who was busy peeling and cutting up apples on a wooden chopping board.

Daisy paused in her task as she pressed the knife in her hand down on a apple. "Maybe he's got a sweetheart?"

"I doubt that very much," said Mrs Patmore firmly.

Confusion flickered across Daisy's face. "Why wouldn't he? He's quite good looking and he's much nicer now than he use to be. And he can dance. Really well too. I'd think there'd be lots of girls who'd be interested."

Mrs Patmore held back an exasperated sigh, her look pointed and firm as she tried her best to end the discussion. "Well they may be interested in him but he's not interested in them, is he."

Seeing that Daisy was now more confused than ever and was about to push the matter further Andy interceded, regretting a little that he had even started the conversation. "I think what Mrs Patmore means is that Mr Barrow is dedicated to his job and doesn't have time for any kind of romance."

The confusion faded a little from Daisy face as she thought about it for a moment before speaking again. "I guess. But it must get a bit lonely for him at times and Mr Carson married Mrs Hughes and was still butler. I don't see how doing his job should stop him from a sweetheart is he wants one."

"Well for now it does. And perhaps you should get on with chopping those apples instead of wondering about Mr Barrow's private business," said Mrs Patmore, praying that would be the end of it.

Chastened if still slightly confused Daisy went back to work leaving Mrs Patmore and Andy to share a look of relief.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

It's another letter from Richard. He recognises the handwriting now and his heart grows warm as he wonders what it contains.

This time Thomas doesn't hesitate to open it, slicing through the top of it with the silver letter opener that is on his desk. He's reads through it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Taking in every word, every sentence, every little thing he possibly can about this man who has captivated him so.

Richard has been thinking about him. About their time together.

He's carrying Thomas's letter in his pocket. Next to his body.

Thomas pushes that thought away with a hurried deep breath.

He has a sister...

A sister who knows what exactly? Their situation? Surely he can't mean... _does he? _The very thought fills Thomas with a mixture of surprise and dread and if he's completely honest, curiosity. Does Richard really mean that his sister knows? About... _them_? That they are... _different_?

Thomas stared ahead lost in thought, the letter still held in his hand, his wonder and curiosity growing as the questions rattled about inside his head.

It is only later in the quiet of afternoon when he's meant to be doing the wine ledger that he gets the chance to give voice to his questions, his hand hesitate at first he glides his pen over the crisp white paper.

_23 October 1927_

_Dear Mr Ellis_

_I fear I may make a poor correspondent as words do not come easily to me. Something that those who know me would, I believe, find hard to imagine as I generally have no trouble at expressing myself in person. _

_Somehow putting pen to paper seems more... intimate. _ _And now that I have written that down it seems so silly considering all the things I have done before._

_Please pass on my thanks to your sister for allowing us to correspond this way. When you say your sister is aware of our situation do you mean...?_

_Forgive me if the question is too imprudent but I want to know everything about you. _

_And now I have probably embarrassed us both. I did warn you that I wasn't very good at this. _

_Perhaps I should close this before I embarrass you further._

_Till we meet again._

_Sincerely Yours_

_Thomas Barrow_


	5. Chapter 5

The flicker of nerves remained even after he had posted his letter. Had he said the right thing? Been too forward? Not forward enough? The doubts raged inside Thomas making him wonder for the umpteenth time if he has done the right thing.

There had been a time when he had been confident. Ambitious too. Arrogant even, to the point of rudeness. Determined to get ahead even if it meant trampling on others to do so. Sharp with his tongue. Cold and unfeeling. A man who didn't care about anyone. That was the impression he had given the world and all of it untrue. He felt deeply. Perhaps too deeply. Every unkind word and deed remembered and stored away. His arrogance a mask. A cover for the hurt and anger and driving need to prove his father and everyone else that they were wrong about him. In the end all he had done was proven them right. It had been a hard lesson to learn. Time though had moved on and he wasn't that man anymore. The war, Lady Sybil, Jimmy and the threat of losing his job and everything he held dear not once but twice had altered him and made him realise just how others had viewed him. Facing that and the consequences of his past actions had been an even harder lesson. One that had brought him as low as a man could possibly go.

It was only his own determination to be a better person and the steady support and friendship of Miss Baxter and the others that had helped him through it. His perspective on life was now vastly different.

Still the nerves were there. It was hard not to be considering. He's made so mistakes before. Had placed his heart and everything he had to give in the hands of those who had the power to hurt him. And hurt him they had. He wasn't sure if he had the courage any more to take the risk. And yet there was Richard...

Richard who was standing before him offering him a chance for something more. Could he dare risk it?

Thomas took a few final puffs on his cigarette before flicking it away, breathing in deeply as the still glowing ember of the butt slowly fade away along with his nerves.

He smiled, a huff of a chuckle barely escaping his lips. God he was a fool. A damn fool at that. Whatever was going to happen with Richard was what up to him. Deep down he knew that. His heart may be fragile but he was not and he was going to grab onto whatever Richard and life had to offer, nerves been damned.

Thomas turned around, heading back inside, feeling lighter and more confident than he had in awhile.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

The rest of the day passed uneventfully by. His Lordship and Ladyship were still in Scotland, Lady Mary and Mr Talbot were having dinner at the Dower House, and Mr Branson was visiting London on business. It just left the servants to go about their duties and have their own supper which they did. After, with evening upon them and the sky dark with the night, it made sense to send at least some of the staff home a little earlier than normal, especially since they weren't really needed.

"Daisy you can finish early if you like, as long as Mrs Patmore doesn't need you for the rest of the evening," said Thomas as he walked into the servants dining room, the smell of soap suds lingering in the air.

Daisy looked up from what she was doing, delight on her face at this news. "Really?"

"Really. Andy can walk with you to make sure you get home safely." He glanced over at Andy who nodded back in reply, his joy evident.

"Thank you Mr Barrow. I'll make sure she gets home safely and I'll be back before it's too late."

"I'm sure you will," said Thomas, watching as the two of them left. Daisy thanked him as she swept past with Andy following closely behind her. With them gone he sat down at the head of the table, newspaper in hand as he made himself comfortable.

Anna glanced up from her sewing, smiling. "That was nice of you."

"I'm a nice guy, in case you haven't noticed," he replied, glancing over at her with a smirkful teasing smile as he opened up his paper.

Anna carried on smiling as she went back to her sewing.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Walking along Daisy found Andy's presence by her side a comforting one. She didn't like the dark especially on nights like this with the clouds hiding the moon and stars blanketing them in darkness. With Andy nearby it seemed just a little bit less scary and it felt nice to be so safe and protected and cared for.

One thing had been troubling her though. "You know how we were talking about Mr Barrow earlier. Bout him not having a sweetheart and all and Mrs Patmore said he weren't interested in girls. What did she mean exactly? Cause I've been thinking and it makes no sense to me."

Andy glanced over to her, visibly swallowing and blinking for a second before he turned his gaze straight ahead, concentrating once more on the path they were taking. "I'm not sure what you mean,' he said, the words stiff and slightly forced.

Daisy abruptly stopped in her tracks, looking up at him. "I'm not stupid you know. I can tell you're both hiding something from me."

Stopping to stand beside her Andy once again looked shocked and a little uncomfortable. "I would never say that about you. I think you're amazing."

A faint blush swept up Daisy's cheeks. "I know that," she replied cheekily before her tone turned serious once more as she carried on walking. "But you're keeping something from me and if we're to be married we can't have any secrets between us."

Andy gave a firm nod, signally that he agreed with her. "I know. It's just...' He paused faltering for a moment. "... not my place to say."

"Why?" Daisy insisted, not willing to give it up. She knew the others sheltered her sometimes from the harsh realities of life. And though she knew it came from a place a love it was still annoying at times. She was a grown woman for goodness sake. She had even been married once. Though not quite in the same way as other married people were. But that aside she was far more experienced about the world than she had been when she had first arrived at Downton. She just wished that they stopped seeing her as a child and more like the woman she was.

"It's... personal. I'm not sure Mr Barrow would want us discussing it," said Andy, his cheeks colouring.

"He hasn't gotten someone... you know?" asked Daisy as she mimed a baby bump with her hand. "Is that why he's not interested in anyone?"

"No. Nothing like that," replied Andy shaking his head vehemently, his cheeks flaming even more at the turn of their conversation.

Daisy smiled. She wasn't sure if she believed him or not. Perhaps she could make it easier. "I do know where babies come from you know. I'm not that naive."

The colour drained from Andy's face. "Oh." He paused, momentarily stunned as he thought it over. "That's... good I guess. I mean... sorry." The words stumbled out awkwardly. Composing himself he carried on, changing the topic ever so slightly. "He hasn't though. Gotten someone with child I mean."

"So if it's not that then what is it?"

Realising that she wasn't going to let it go, Andy decided that perhaps the truth would be best. After all it wasn't exactly as if the others didn't already know. How to tell Daisy without being indelicate was another matter.

"There are some men who prefer the company of... other men. In a... non-friendship kind of way"

Daisy mulled Andy's words over still not understanding. "I don't get it."

Andy hesitated for a moment gathering his courage. "They like each other... romantically."

"Like sweethearts?" she asked, her face scrunching up in surprise and confusion.

"Yes. Exactly," said Andy, relieved to have something to latch on to, "Like sweethearts."

A dozen questions flooded her mind. She wasn't quite sure where to start or even if she was understanding it right. Was Andy saying that two men could be like him and her? Like Mr and Mrs Bates? "And they hold hands and kiss... like what we do?"

Andy's face went crimson. "Yes."

"Oh."

Daisy went silent as they continued walking, the light from the cottage shining in the distance. Truthfully she had never heard or seen such a thing. Two men holding hands, kissing... like sweethearts. But if Andy said it was true she believed him. Though why it was such a big secret she didn't know.

"You mustn't say anything about this to Mr Barrow. Or anyone else. Not even Mr Mason," said Andy.

"Why? I won't embarrass him. I think it's nice that he has someone."

"We don't know if he has. But even if he does we mustn't talk about it. Ever. If the police found out Mr Barrow could get arrested."

Andy's voice was serious as he spoke though he made no sense to Daisy. "Arrested? For having a sweetheart?"

"It's against the law Daisy. For a man to like another man... that way. They can go to prison."

Daisy's eyes widened in shock, horrified that such a thing could happen. "But that's wrong. The law can't do something like that. Send someone to jail just for loving someone."

"Maybe. But it's still against the law. If it ever got out that Mr Barrow was like that it would ruin him."

The seriousness of all that Andy had said shocked and sadden Daisy. Poor Mr Barrow. To love someone but never be able to hold their hand, to be together, to talk about his love seemed needlessly cruel. The law was stupid and wrong. Lost in thought she reached out to Andy, clasping his hand in her own.

"We need to be extra nice to him. Even when he's grumpy."

Andy squeezed her hand, smiling down at her. "You're a good person Daisy Mason."

"You're daft," she said smiling, his hand still in hers as she leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder, her face flushing with a faint blush as they carried onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I couldn't find anywhere that mentioned how old Daisy was. So assuming that she was about 14 in 1912 when the series first started she would be about 29 in the year this is set (1927). That's the age I'm going to go with for now - unless someone finds something different. I'm also thinking that Andy might actually be a little bit younger than her, maybe 3 or 4 years. It's just an idea for now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer than usual. I found it harder to write even though I had the scene played out in my head.

Thomas had barely sat down when Daisy appeared at his side, placing a cup of freshly brewed tea on the table in front of him. The words 'Thank you Daisy' only just managed to escape his lips before she disappeared from sight heading back to the kitchen.

A cup of tea from Daisy seems to have become his new norm judging by its sudden appearance every afternoon this past week. He appreciates the gesture even if he is a little confused by it. Still he's not one to turn down a cup of tea when it's on offer and he drinks it slowly savouring the heat of it on this cold and wet afternoon. It tastes just right. Not too strong. Not to milky. And he wonders how Richard likes his tea. It's weird he knows to have thoughts like this but there is so much he doesn't know about the man and he wants to know everything. In the past few days he has written three letters, his hesitation from earlier all but gone. It might be a little forward but he's done with hiding in the shadows and holding himself back. All the things he wanted to say have come pouring out.

Carefully worded of course.

He remembers Richard's advise and knows to be circumspect. The words never the less are there. He talks about his day, the comings and goings at the abbey, silly inconsequential things that might have no meaning to some but are everything to him. With each letter he feels more confident, more certain that this is the right thing.

He won't call it love.

Not yet.

It's too far early for that. Their relationship, whatever it is, is still new and fresh and filled with the promise of possibilities. But he knows there is something there. Richard feels it too. Had said so in every way possible only Thomas had been too scared to think it could possibly be true.

He's not scared anymore though. A little bit nervous perhaps but that's to be expected what with everything that has gone before. Ghosts of his past linger in the background, a reminder of broken dreams and broken hearts. This is different. There's no hidden agenda or power play or unrequited pining. No men who just want what he can do for them or to them and nothing more. This time he likes a man who likes him back. It's as simple as that.

The sound of a chair being scraped across the floor pulled him out of his reverie. With cup and saucer carefully balanced in her hand Mrs Hughes sat down, exhaustion on her face though her eyes are bright and her smile warm. "You're looking very pleased with yourself," she said.

"I'm always pleased with myself," replied Thomas with a smirk.

Mrs Hughes smiled warmly. "You don't fool me Mr Barrow," she said, her tone indulgent.

Finished with his tea he stood up, reaching in his pocket for his cigarettes and matches. "As if I could Mrs Hughes," he said, giving her a saucy wink and smile causing her to nearly spluttered on her drink in surprise, her cheeks flushing pink as Thomas walked away, his footsteps light as he softly hummed to himself, cigarette in hand.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_23 October 1927_

_I think of our time together often too and look forward to the day we can meet again._

_I wanted you to know that._

_Yours _

_T_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_27 October 1927_

_27 October 1927_

_Dear Mr Ellis_

_I hope that you are well and that it is better in London than it is here. Winter it seems has arrived and we have had nothing but rain for the past three days. I miss the sun but strangely the sound of the rain against the roof and the windows is oddly soothing despite the footsteps of mud and water that everyone is leaving behind in their wake.  
_

_His Lordship is due back tomorrow after being away in Scotland these past few weeks and everyone has been madly preparing for his return. Mrs Hughes, in particular, seems determined to have everything polished and gleaming as if it was a royal visit. _ _I would almost prefer if it was a royal visit just so that I could spend the day with you again.  
_

_At least this time I can hide out in the pantry and carry out my duties in peace. His Lordship dog Tiaa sometimes keeps me company though I am fairly sure it is the tidbits of sausage that I occasionally give her that makes her want to stay. That and she is also hiding from Mrs Hughes cries at all the muddy paw prints she is making. She is lonely I think and missing her master so I don't mind her stopping by. Mr Branson generally takes her for a walk when his Lordship is away but he's in London at the moment and with the weather atrocious she has taken refuge down here with me. I've never thought of myself as much of a dog person - we never had any growing up - but I am finding I don't mind her presence as much as I thought I would._

_Don't tell anyone or people will say I am getting soft._

_Until we meet again._

_Sincerely Yours_

_Thomas Barrow_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_29 October 1927_

_It is nearly midnight and the house is finally settled and quiet as I write this._

_My jacket and tie are gone, hung up on clothes hooks along with my waistcoat and I am sitting here in nothing but my shirt and trousers, the sleeves pushed up, buttons half undone and I am looking, I am quite sure, decidedly less put together than I usually am. And yet I have never felt more content than at this moment knowing you are only a few hours away. Perhaps you are sleeping, safe and warm in your bed tired after a busy day. Or perhaps you are awake, lying there thinking of me just as I am thinking of you._

_Yours_

_T_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I've written the more personal letters slightly differently. I thought Thomas would not address them directly to Richard or sign them with his name as a way of keeping them more anonymous in case anyone every found them. I not sure if it works but hopefully it does. Let me know in the comments, if you want to. Thanks :)


	7. Chapter 7

Standing across the road Richard kept his eyes on the entrance of the underground train station as he waited for his sister to exit. He was only vaguely aware of the people walking pass, tightly holding onto their coats in an effort to keep the wind at bay. Raining it might not be but the wind had most definitely taken hold and a strong breeze was blowing through the city. Still the weather hadn't stop Jermyn Street or the rest of town from being busy. People rushed by going about their business, darting into various shops, some to buy others just to browse and escape the chill. Richard couldn't really blame them. The air had a bite to it, not that he minded too much. An afternoon with his sister was worth venturing outside though it would be nice to get indoors before the rain came back.

Suddenly amongst the crowd of commuters she was there. A slim figure standing at the station's entrance, dark blonde hair curling softly around her face, forest green hat and matching coat, a glimpse of a navy blue dress peaking out from among its folds. Smartly dressed which was no surprise. Being children of a tailor they both had a natural way with clothes.

Richard called out her name. "Elizabeth."

Her face alighted as her gaze found his, her mouth curving up in a smile. She moved quickly forward her steps brisk. And then just as suddenly she was there right in front of him, her hand reaching up to bat a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

"You've changed your hair," said Richard.

Elizabeth turned her head right then left. "Do you like it?"

He briefly studied her again. Noticing the way the soft curls fluffed around her face and neck. "I do. It's very Clara Bow."

She blushed a little at his compliment and linked her arm with his as they headed down the street. "So where are we going?"

"I'll give you three guesses." Richard deftly side stepped a puddle and an on coming pedestrian as they walked. Elizabeth copied his movements exactly, their footsteps in tune with each other.

"The Ritz?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Mmm well it can't be Claridge's that's the other way."

"True. One more."

Elizabeth went quiet, obviously thinking. A minute went by and then another. Then as they turned at Green Park she looked over at him smiling. "Park Lane?"

"Park Lane" Richard smiled back. It had been far too easy but he enjoyed teasing her if even just a little bit.

He was deeply fond of his sister. As children they had always been close but as they had gotten older they had moved beyond being just brother and sister and had become good friends. It was quite different to the relationship they had with their older brother James. It wasn't that there was hatred between them. It was more an emptiness that separated him from them. Any brotherly affection or connection was completely absence on his part. It had been that way their whole lives and would most likely remain that way. James had no time for them and 'their ways' as he put it and kept his distance from them as much as possible. An indifferent tolerance was about as good as it got. He would have been surprised to find that this suited them both just fine. 

Richard side stepped another puddle this time pulling his sister aside as a car got a little too close splashing water up onto the footpath as it drove through a pool of water. Narrowly avoiding a drenching they carried on, sidestepping more puddles and pedestrians as they walked.

All at once there was The Park Lane. All eight stories of it standing proudly opposite the park. Newly opened it was elegant in every way, the epitome of the latest art deco style. Going in they made their way to the Palm Court and handed in their coats to the hat check girl. Following their waiter to their table they discreetly looked around taking in the checkered marble floor and the enormous curved glass ceiling that filtered the light into the room.

Seated and their afternoon tea selected and ordered Elizabeth gave a happy smile. "This is lovely. Thank you."

Richard smirked back, pleased that his surprise had gone well. "I thought you might like it. Quite a few people at the palace have been talking about it."

"I can see why. It's beautiful. Almost as good as The Ritz."

"Sshush," he said, putting his fingers to his lips, "They might hear you and make us work for our tea."

"Pffft. They wouldn't dare."

Elizabeth reached for her handbag, opening it. "I have your letters," she said handing him the small pile. "It seems he likes you."

Her smiled mirrored his as he tried and failed to hold back his delight. He had known from the onset that the draw back of having the letters go through Elizabeth would be the delay but it seemed it might be worth it as there was now not one letter but several letters from Thomas. Holding back his desire to open them right here and now was going to take all of his restraint. "I think he does." Richard glanced down at the letters, smiling. "I like him too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For those that know London Jermyn Street really did have an underground train entrance in the 1920s. It was part of Piccadilly Circus. There's a picture of if online if you are interested.
> 
> 2\. Clara Bow was a film star in the 20s and early 30s and was known for her saucy manner and hairstyles.
> 
> 3\. The Palm Court at The Park Lane really does exist and first opened in 1927.. The hotel is now known as the Sheraton Park Lane but much of the original look of the hotel as it was in 1927 still exists and yes you can still have afternoon tea in The Palm Court.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter I know. I almost feel that I should attach it at the end of the previous chapter but for now it is here. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.

_3 November 1927_

_I got your letters today. All four of them. Which in itself was enough to make me smile._

_You are not a poor correspondent, Thomas. That failure lies with me. And for that I am sorry. It's not that the words are hard for me to say but that I want to say them to you in person. If you were here now I would tell you that,_

_I love the feel of the sun against my skin. And a cool bath on a hot summers day._

_I like the smell of freshly brewed coffee and spring flowers and paint on a newly painted canvas. And even the smell of turpentine._

_I dislike the smell of mud (for reasons I will tell you one day)_

_I like children and dogs and horses. But I'm not overly keen on cats._

_I love to dance even though I have never been able to dance with someone I truly want to_

_Mostly importantly I would tell you this._

_I like you._

_I like your smile and the way you walk. I like that your humour is the same as mine. That you see the world like I do and can make fun of it. I like your awkwardness and your bravery and your silliness too. I like everything about you._

_I would tell you all this and so much more._

_Til we meet again_

_Yours_

_R_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_4 November 1927_

_You could never embarrass me. Not ever._

_As for my sister. Yes she knows. I trust her completely. Do you have someone like that in your life? Someone you can talk to about anything and know that they will always be there for you? If not then know you can always talk to me. I may not have the answers but I will always listen._

_One day soon, I hope that we can walk and talk again like we did that night in York._

_Until then._

_Yours_

_R_

_ **DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N** _

_5 November1927_

_It's Bonfire Night and there are fires and Catherine Wheels burning brightly in St James's Park. Their Majesties let a few of us go out to watch it for an hour or so. I can hear the sounds of wood splintering and cracking as it heats up and the hissing sound of the Catherine Wheels as they turn. It was quite magical being among it all. The hot toddy that I and one of the footmen and housemaid's shared most likely helped. Don't worry, I was careful and had just a couple of mouthfuls. Just enough to take the chill off._

_There were some (Mr Wilson mostly) who wondered if the sound of the fireworks bothered me. As if somehow the sounds remind me of the war. Part of me wanted to tell them that war is nothing like that. War is death and cold and mud and stench and endless moments of silence as you try your best just to survive._

_It would shock them if I did. But I held my tongue and told him that I actually quite enjoy Bonfire Night. Which is true. I do._

_Yours_

_R_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_6 November 1927_

_I think of you too. At night as I lay here in my bed staring out at the stars. And now I know that you are thinking of me too and somehow the distance between us feels like nothing at all._

_Yours_

_R_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_6 November 1927_

_Did you think of me when you removed your jacket and tie_

_Did you imagine me being there in the room with you as you undressed_

_That it was my hands that worked each button of your jacket free and slid it from your shoulders_

_My hands that brushed against the cotton of your shirt as I undid your tie._

_Did you think of me and dream of my hands wandering even further..._

_R_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bonfire Night is generally also known as Guy Fawkes Night and is on the 5th November. It is a big celebration with bonfires and fireworks and food like toffee (candy) apples.


	9. Chapter 9

Andy said nothing when the letter came through the post. Or when another arrived the day after. And another the day after that. Instead he quietly smiled to himself and placed each letter on top so that it would be the first thing Mr Barrow saw when the mail was handed to him.

He did however talk about it with Daisy on their evening walk to the farm.

"He's got a sweetheart," said Daisy, as they made their way down the path, their hands clasped in each other's swinging in time to their footsteps.

"We don't know that for sure. It could be a friend whose writing to him."

Disbelief flickered across Daisy's face. "A friend who makes him smile like that? If you had a friend who made you smile like that I'd be worried."

"Would you?" Andy tried to keep the note of hopefulness from his voice.

"Of course I would. And don't you be getting any ideas," replied Daisy, her voice firm as she glanced over at him.

Andy tried and failed to hold back his smile, secretly pleased that Daisy would feel just a little bit jealous if he ever showed interest in another woman. Not that he ever would. Daisy, he was certain, was the girl for him. "No Daisy."

"So it's a sweetheart," she said getting back on topic, "I wonder who it could be?"

Andy had no idea. Not that he had given it much thought until now and it really wasn't a thought he wanted to have. He wasn't disgusted by it but more that thinking about two men together just wasn't the kind of thing one did. Ever. "I don't know. I'm not really sure I want to know."

Daisy scoffed at this, not believing it for a moment. "Course you do. Mr Barrow's got an admirer. It's romantic is what it is."

"I guess so," said Andy doubtfully.

"It is," she said dreamily, "You men have no idea. I bet Mr Barrow appreciates it though. Having someone sending him love letters. No wonder he's looking so happy. I'd be dead chuffed if someone sent me a love letter. It'd be like being in one of those films. Having someone declaring their love like that."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Falling silent as they carried on walking Andy pondered on what Daisy had said. Hearing her speak about Mr Barrow's letters made him wonder if perhaps he had failed her on that front and if he had, perhaps there was a way he could try and give her just a little bit of the romance she secretly craved.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Two more letters arrived. Both on the same day. And again Andy said nothing. Placing them once again on the top of the pile and handing them to Mr Barrow, who glanced at them with his usual blank look giving nothing away.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Walking through the servants entrance and leaving her coat and hat in her sitting room Mrs Hughes couldn't help but hear Mr Barrow humming as she walked pass the Butler's Pantry on her way to the staff dining room.

Well that was new and certainly different.

Then again there had been something different about Mr Barrow overall of late. A certain lightness in his bearing and manner. His smile holding a kind of joy that was quite unmistakable. She would almost say he was in love but as far as she knew there was no one like that in his life. Not that it was her place to know but still one generally heard about these things and with Mr Barrow there was no inkling that he had a special someone.

It was a pity really. If anyone deserved love it was him. It was heartbreaking really when you thought about it. Someone who so obviously wanted to give love and receive it in return to be forever denied the chance. Life could certainly be cruel.

Still it could be worse. A lot worse. They had almost lost him once. That was not a day she would ever forget. Thomas surrounded by all that blood and water, his skin so grey and pale... no, best not to dwell on it. He had pulled through, that was what was important. She only hoped that whatever it was that was causing this good humour would last.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Nerves all a jitter, the two letters in his hand Thomas entered the servants dining room, his body and face a mask of calm and indifference. It was a skill suited not only to a butler but also the man and Thomas was a master of it. He smiled and said a few brief words to the staff before they all sat down to breakfast. In seconds they were all eating and drinking and engaging in idle conversations. Thomas took a small silent breath of relief and helped himself to a cup of tea, glancing down at the letters that were now laid upon the table.

Did he dare open them now? In front of everyone? Or should he wait for a private moment? He tussled with indecision for a moment then realised that no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention and really what would be the harm in opening a couple of letters and reading them while he had his breakfast. It was a perfectly normal thing to do after all.

Confidence returned along with his eagerness to read Richard's latest letters he picked the first one up and sliced through the top with his bread knife. The words enclosed made him smile before he carefully placed it back in the envelope and sliced open the next one. He read it slowly his face growing warmer with each line.

_Did you think of me and dream of my hands wandering ..._

"Is everything alright Mr Barrow," asked Anna interrupting him.

Startled Thomas looked up and saw most of the staff staring at him, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. He felt his cheeks flame more. "Yes... I'm fine.'

Embarrassed and needing to flee he abruptly stood up, quickly gathering the letters in haste to be gone. "Please don't get up. I have something to attend to. Carry on with your breakfast," he said just as the staff started to rise out of their seats.

With the words said and the letters in his hands he turned and left, his footsteps echoing out in a hurried manner.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Anna and Miss Baxter shared a confused look, while the rest of the staff carried on talking amongst themselves. The topic of conversation no doubt Mr Barrow's rather sudden departure.

"What was that all about, do you think?" asked Mr Bates.

Anna glanced at him, confusion still on her face. "I have no idea."

John fell quiet for a few seconds thinking things over. "He's been acting a bit strange lately."

"Has he?"

John smirked, knowing his wife would be fully aware of what ever was going on. "You My Darling Wife haven't noticed?"

Anna tried to hold back her grin though her mouth still curved up in a smile and her eyes crinkled in laughter. "Well maybe just a bit." She paused for a moment, pulling herself together. "I heard him humming the other day when he was polishing the silver and he let Daisy and some of the other staff go home early the other day."

"He's done that before. Letting staff go home early."

"True. But it was the way he did it. Like he was really happy I guess. And flirty too."

"Flirty?"

"You know. Kind of charming in that way he can sometimes be and not because he's after something. Relaxed and... well flirty."

John's mouth twitched in amusement at his wife's description. "Flirty. I'm not sure if it's a word I would've ever used to describe Mr Barrow but I get what you mean. He's certainly been different these past few weeks."

"That's a good thing though, right?" asked Anna.

John nodded in reply. "I think it is. Not just for all of us but for Mr Barrow too."

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

Safe in his butler's pantry Thomas leaned back against the closed door.

Christ that had been close. He was never ever not-in-his-lifetime-or-the-next ever read another letter knowing there were others nearby. Especially when it might contain what this one had. He was a stupid fool to even risk it.

Circumspect like hell. He was a danger to himself and Richard.

Jesus Richard...

Taking a few more calming breaths Thomas looked down at the letters in his hand. Richard had written that. Desperate to read the words again wondering if perhaps he had imagined it all he opened it up.

_Did you think of me when you removed your jacket and tie_

_Did you imagine me being there in the room with you as you undressed_

_That it was my hands that worked each button of your jacket free and slid it from your shoulders_

_My hands that brushed against the cotton of your shirt as I undid your tie._

_Did you think of me and dream of my hands wandering even further..._

Fuck.

And that really is not the word he wants in his head right now because now he has images of hands and Richard and nakedness and it's totally inappropriate to be thinking like that and yet at the same time it isn't. He maybe be a romantic. A hopeless one at that. But he has thoughts. Very inappropriate and yet appropriate almost scandalous risque' thoughts. And all about Richard.

Now Richard has put those thoughts on paper. Letting Thomas know that he thinks of him in that way too. The words aren't flowery like the way Phillip had written to him but simple and direct and all the more seductive because of that. Thomas knows he pretty much going to be reading this letter again and again. Though next time it will be in the privacy of his room.

For now he'll hide out in here. At least until his oh so arousing thoughts have gone away and he can compose himself.

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. I've been sick with half my face swollen up and throbbing in almost constant pain. Not a fun thing but now luckily all is well and I'm back to normal. To make up a little for such a long delay this chapter is slightly longer than usual. I'm still not sure if I'm totally happy with it but after rewriting it several times I decided to just go ahead and post it. I hope you like it. Any mistakes are all mine. Thanks for all the wonderful comments and support.

Phyllis lingered outside the butlers pantry door, hesitating as she debated if she should enter or not. Over half an hour had gone by and Mr Barrow was still entrenched in his office, hiding from whatever it was that made him flee in the first place. His unusual behaviour aside her concern for him far outweighed any reluctance on her part to invade his privacy. Confident she was doing the right thing she gently tapped her knuckles upon the door's surface.

"Mr Barrow. It's me. Miss Baxter. May I come in?"

The sound of a heavy sigh emitted from the room beyond followed by silence. She tried again, her concern rising. "Thomas..."

"You can come it," he said, cutting her off.

Carefully she opened the door and there he was; seated at his desk looking immaculate as always. Butler's suit smoothed and pressed, shirt gleaming white and crisp, tie straighten to perfection, hair slicked back with pomade and yet despite all of this there was an air of something slightly ruffled about him. She knew then that she had been right to come.

Closing the door quietly behind her she sat opposite him, straightening and smoothing out her dress once she was seated.

"I imagine they're all talking about me," he said with a wry glance.

"They're concerned..."

His face harden in disbelief at this statement. "I bet they are," he replied with a snap.

She held back a sigh. It was hard for him she knew. Opening up to others, letting them in, especially if it involved talking about himself. Superficial things were easy. In fact he was very charming and engaging when he just let himself be. However anything deeply personal and his defenses were up, hesitate to share what was really going on inside his head and his heart. Barbed comments, snark and snap like he'd just done had always been his way. A habit that thankfully he didn't fall into nearly as often as he had done in the past. Knowing him as she did, acting all snappish when feeling threaten or vulnerable wasn't going to stop her from speaking up now. "Don't be like that."

Regret at his previous tone flickered across his face. "Sorry. Old habits and all that. I'm sure they're concerned."

"They are... and a little curious too," she admitted, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

"I've made a fool of myself, haven't I, running out like that." His guard was gone now, vulnerability in his voice, embarrassment showing.

"No you haven't. You could never be foolish. Not to me. Not to anyone. You do seem a bit... unsettled though. Is something wrong?"

"No. Not wrong. The exact opposite in fact," he replied with a hint of wonder, a tentative smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

His words took her by surprise. Of all the things she had thought this was not it. "Oh?"

"I... I've been writing to someone. And they've been writing to me."

She said nothing, waiting patiently for him to continue. She had heard the whispers among the staff, was aware Thomas was suddenly getting a lot of letters so this at least was not a surprise. Though like the others she wondered who they were from. Was it his family? Had he finally reached out to them? Or vice versa?

She had been close to Thomas and his sister Margaret when she was younger, long before time and circumstances had pulled them all in different directions. Even so neither had ever revealed what had caused the breach between Thomas and his family. She only knew that it was sudden and severe. So much so that he rarely, if ever, talked about any of them and when he did it was not with fondness. Perhaps the situation was finally resolving itself after all these years. She only hoped it was so.

Seeing her silence Thomas reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out a bundle of letters. "Maybe it's best that I show you, " he said, handing one of the letters to her.

Touched that he trusted her with something so personal Phyllis carefully took the letter and read its contents, only looking up when she had reached the end, her eyes widening in faint surprise. As before it was not what she had expected. "Mr Ellis, the King's Valet?"

Thomas nodded yes in reply.

"He seemed nice," she said, handing the letter back to him.

He smiled then, one of unexpected bashful delight. "Yes he is."

"And you're writing to each other?" she asked, probing gently, trying to get him to talk some more. Not just for her own curiosity of which there was plenty but for Thomas's benefit too.

He nodded again, words still seemingly to fail him which in its self was unusual and not like him at all.

She tried again. "But that's nice isn't it? That you're friends?"

"He kissed me," he said, the words rushing out as if the effort of holding it back had been too much.

If he expected revulsion or even shock at his announcement she gave none. She was quite aware of his nature and it bothered her not in the slightest. She could see no reason why it ever could. Thomas preferred men. There was nothing shameful or wrong about that as far as she was concerned. Illegal yes and potentially dangerous for him. But wrong? No. Not ever. Not in her eyes. If Thomas found love she was only happy for him.

"You like him."

"Yes."

"And he likes you."

"Yes." He gave a barely there pause. "He says he does."

"And you are being careful? Aren't you?"

The bashful delight on his face dimmed, his expression grave. "Yes. Always."

She was certain he would be but it was a relief to hear the words all the same. "I'm glad. I don't want you to end up in prison."

He scoffed. "Can't say I'm that keen on that happening myself to be honest. But yes we're being careful. I promise."

"You seem happy," she said, smiling.

"I am."

He sounded surprise at this as if happiness, at least the kind involving love, was something for others and not him. Phyllis though could only feel joy at her friend's news. Their reacquaintance may have started off badly all those years ago but their relationship now was so much better. Thomas was the family she never had and his happiness meant a great deal to her.

"Then I'm happy for you," she said, making her way to the door, turning towards him as she opened it with a warm and gentle smile. "Truly."

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_5 November 1927_

_Aren't we a pair you and I. I apologise for embarrassing us both. We both apologise for being poor correspondents. Yet neither of us have done anything wrong. I wonder if this is how other people go about their courtship. For this is what it is, isn't it? Courtship between you and I. It feels like it is. _

_I've never courted anyone before. Not like this at least. Part of me is terrified by the prospect of it. Worried that I'll get it wrong. And yet at the same time I have never felt happier or more hopeful._

_To say that I like you would be an understatement. I am in awe of you. You fill my thoughts. Your confidence, your humour, the sound of your voice, the way you smile, the feel of your hand against my skin, your lips against mine. I carry the watch fob you gave me and the thought of you with me always._

_Til we meet again._

_Yours_

_T_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_6 November 1927_

_I've never had that. Someone to confine in. My own fault really. I've not found it easy to trust people. One day I'll tell you why. But not yet, if that's alright? It's not the kind of thing that's easy to talk about. At least not in a letter. But I'd like to tell you one day. Like you to be the first. _

_Until then I think of that night in York and look forward to when we can see each other again. To walk and talk, just the two of us.  
_

_Yours_

_T_

_PS: I'm learning though. To trust I mean. I trust you._

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_7 November 1927_

_I'm not sure if I believe in magic or even the magical but I know what you mean about Bonfire Night. I enjoy a good fire. The sound of the wood cracking as it heats up and burns, the glow of the flames and the way the colours shimmer and change. _

_It rained here. Which is pretty much the norm at the moment. So no big bonfires or fireworks I'm afraid but we did however manage to light some sparklers in the dining room and spent the evening playing cards. I even had a dance or two as we listened to music from the wireless, one with Miss Baxter and the other with Anna, so in the end it proved to be a good night after all despite the heavy rain. _

_We shall be quite busy in the coming months with various people coming to stay in the lead up to Christmas and they'll be quite a few dinners to organise as well as the various Christmas and New Year parties and gatherings._

_I imagine that it's the same for you, being busy I mean. It must be quite exciting at times even with Mr Wilson putting a damper on things. How you put up with him I don't know. Would it be wrong do you think to hope that he gets sent to the colonies or something? I'm sure you and the rest of the staff would appreciate it._

_Til we meet again._

_Yours _

_T_

**DT** **N*** **DT** **N*** **DT** **N**

_8 November 1927_

_I've got the day off on the 18th courtesy of His Lordship so I have the day free to do as I wish. His Lordship is a generous employee, far more so than many others. Tolerant too considering how many of the staff are married as well as some of the scandals. We're not quite the restraint lot that we may appear though I'm fairly certain you've figured that out by now._

_Do you get much free time in your position? Or are your days off limited to just a few?_

_Yours _

_T_


End file.
